Those Three Words: A Single Dad, Billionaire Boss Romance(21)
“I’m sorry,” he finally says and relief washes over me. “You’re right. She can keep the kitten but”—he points his finger again—“you’re responsible. You make sure she keeps up with it and that it’s taken care of and no more messes in the halls.”
“Yes, sir, absolutely.” I raise my hand like I’m taking an oath and I don’t know why.
“One other thing. Miss Perry mentioned that while I was gone, Eleanor was banging on pots and pans and running around the house, causing a ruckus.”
I bite my tongue. God, this woman! What does she have against me? I open my mouth to speak, but he raises his hand.
“I know she exaggerates and Eleanor is only five. If she’s not breaking or damaging things, I don’t care, but Miss Perry is very important to this household so please do your best to just stay out of her hair.”
I nod my head and now I’m left wondering just how important she is to the household. Is there something going on between them? Maybe the flirting I see from her isn’t so one-sided like I thought it was. I have no idea what their history is and frankly it’s none of my business. Still, I feel a tinge of jealousy welling up in my chest at the thought of him holding her.
“I will. I’m sorry for raising my voice. I shouldn’t have done that, and I apologize again for going behind your back with the cat thing. And I’ll do my best to stay out of Miss Perry’s way. Wouldn’t want to force her to be the victim any more than she already is.”
Damn. I almost kept my smart mouth shut. I flinch, fully expecting another tongue-lashing from Mr. Uptight but instead he breaks out in a roar of laughter, his head falling back and everything. It’s a relief, not only that I didn’t get my head bitten off but also seeing him relaxed… and laughing. It makes me laugh in return.
“You’re not wrong there,” he mutters. “Thank you, Miss Silver.” He smiles politely and gestures toward the door. I take the hint and exit, closing the door softly behind me as little butterflies dance in my tummy at the realization that I made Mr. Hayes laugh.
I can’t sleep.
I roll over and look at the alarm clock on my bedside table. It’s 2:14 a.m. I’ve been tossing and turning for most of the night, my mind replaying this afternoon with Mr. Hayes. Well, more like replaying the conversation we had on the phone the night before and then him laughing this afternoon.
I tried to imagine the situation when he called me. He sounded calm, tired maybe. His voice was deeper and raspier than usual. I was confused when I saw his name pop up on my phone, knowing it was well past Eleanor’s bedtime. I enjoyed the brief moments that we talked, though, like we were just two friends catching up.
I huff, tossing the covers off and giving up on actually getting any sleep. I stretch my arms overhead and decide that maybe a snack will help me reset. I stand up and put on my slippers, questioning if I should also grab some pants but ultimately decide against it. My oversized t-shirt is long enough it covers halfway down my thighs and it’s the middle of the night, so nobody will see me.
I open the door and glance down the hall before walking out of my room and down the stairs to the kitchen. I open the pantry door and don’t bother turning on the light. There’s enough glow from the moon hitting the kitchen windows that I can make out what’s in front of me.
I spy a Cheez-It box and pop it open, reaching my hand inside, grabbing a handful, and shoving them into my mouth. I turn to exit the pantry and find a small dish to pour some in when a shadowy figure crosses the doorway, and then the light flicks on, blinding me.
I shield my eyes, my mouth dropping open just as a scream is about to erupt from my throat. But before I can make a peep, Mr. Hayes’ strong arms are enveloping me as his hand clamps down over my mouth.
“It’s just me,” he whispers against my cheek, his warm breath fanning across my face. Suddenly I realize he’s shirtless. The heat from his bare chest pressed against my body sends my senses into overdrive. I feel my heartbeat double in pace as I slowly swallow down the mouthful of crackers and he removes his hand.
He steps back. Instantly, I miss the connection.
“You okay?” he asks, running his hand through his mussed hair, a curl flopping down partly over one eye.
Oh my God. My ovaries feel like they just exploded as I take in a shirtless Graham Hayes, complete with low-slung pajama bottoms that expose the deep V cut and dark trail of hair that disappears beneath his waistband. I know I’m staring but I can’t help it.
His defined chest is peppered with dark hair. I love hair on a man’s chest. His body has the muscular, lean look of an athlete without being overly bulky like a gym bro.
Dammit, now I know exactly what’s beneath those bespoke suits and pressed shirts.
“Yes, you just scared me.” I place my hand on my chest, willing my heart to calm down.
“Sorry about that. Couldn’t sleep either?” he asks, leaning against the doorjamb so I’m trapped in this tiny room with him. I nod my head.
Dammit, a house this big and the pantry couldn’t be double this size? I feel like I’m being interrogated, a bright light in my eyes.
He drags his own eyes down my body now, agonizingly slow. He reaches his hand up to his face, running his finger along his bottom lip as he studies me, and I’d give anything to know what’s behind those dark eyes right now.